“Okay,” she calls. “Gimme that booty shake.”
I wave my arms over my head again.
“C’mon, Levi, drop it low,” she says, laughing.
“What have you got in that water bottle?” I call, waving my arms one more time, just for good measure.
I don’t really booty shake. I mean, if she insists, I can give it a try, but I doubt it’s my best move.
“You didn’t hear that?”
“Nope.”
“Good. That means I got it working,” she says, and a moment later she emerges from the tangle and comes toward me. There’s a twig stuck in her ponytail, and when she gets close enough, I pull it out.
“Thanks,” she says, and then looks back at where she left the camera, squinting. “Wow, you really can’t see it. That’s pretty good.”
I just look up at the massive oak tree that I’m standing next to. I wish I didn’t have to do any of this, because I wish someone wasn’t cutting down my trees for no reason whatsoever.
If they were doing something with the tree, I’d feel a little bit better about it. Not much, but five percent, maybe ten. If at least these trees were becoming shelter or furniture or for the love of God, even firewood, that would be better.
But they’re not, and it feels like there’s almost nothing I can do about it. The forest is seven hundred thousand acres, and even though the bad guys are clearly targeting trees in a smaller area than that, it’s impossible to guard every tree. We can’t even guard the trees that June and I think are at risk. The best we can do is put up cameras and hope we catch the murderers in the act.
“I hope it works,” she says, leaning against me.
“We’ll have to wait and see,” I say, sliding my arm around her, wondering what the camera’s capturing. It feels a little strange to touch her where anyone else can see, even though that someone is a camera with a memory card no one but me will likely ever access.
But it feels good. I wish the way we are here, in the forest, on our own, could be the way we are in public. I want to hold her hand, give her kisses, put my arm around her sometimes. I want people to know that she’s mine and I’m hers, but instead we act like virtual strangers or — when we forget ourselves — like secret friends.
You could have that, I think. You could just tell him.
The only thing in your way is your insistence on this secret.
It’s true. I know that. I know that I’m walking along a knife’s edge and any day now, I’ll fall off to one side or the other. June’s got a phone interview three days from now for a job in South Dakota, and I’ve forced myself not to think about it.
Even if she doesn’t get that job — she doesn’t think she will, I think she doesn’t give herself enough credit — there will be more applications and more interviews and before long, she’ll be gone and I’ll still be here with Silas.
“We should go set up camp,” I say, my lips in her hair as I plant a kiss on top of her head. “The sun sets early these days.”
“Do you know where we’re going?” she asks. “Just for the record, I’m lost as hell.”
“You’ve got a map, a compass, and your wits,” I remind her. “You’re not lost, you’re just not sure where you are yet.”
“All the same, I think you should take the lead,” June says. “If it’s up to me I vote we camp right here, because I’m tired.”
“One more mile,” I tell her, pulling away.
I grab her pack, hold it up, and she shrugs it on, thanks me.
“You’re saying we’re almost there?” she teases.
“I would never say that,” I tell her. “I know better.”The spot I’ve got in mind is more like a mile and a quarter away, but that quarter seems like a detail best not mentioned. We’ve already hiked seven miles today, two of them cross-country with no trail. I’m tired, and I do this sort of thing routinely. June’s exhausted, but she helps me set up our small campsite anyway.
I make her sit down while I quickly make us dinner, and we eat sitting on a space blanket, leaning against a fallen tree, a chill coming on with the dark.
After dinner, we build a fire and we sit against the log, watching it, our tent glowing in the background. June leans against me, and even though we’re both wearing a couple of layers in the autumn night, her heat seeps through her clothes and onto my skin.
We stay like that for a few minutes. I listen to the fire, to the swish and hush of the trees overhead, to the sigh of the forest, to the music of the birds, to the distant burble of a creek.